


Something Good Will Come

by deirdre_aithne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Character Death, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deirdre_aithne/pseuds/deirdre_aithne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Taken directly from the prompt] For some reason Harry goes to the Snape home at Spinner's End (can be set in the US or Cokesworth, any time period from the 1950's on, whichever is easiest).  Perhaps he makes deliveries from a drugstore or he is a social services worker.   Snape lives with his mother, Eileen, who is suffering from Alzheimer's Disease.  Often, she thinks she is Lady Prince residing at Prince Manor and Harry someone who works for them.  Her history is she was from a wealthy family who disowned her for marrying Tobias.  Severus is her carer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Good Will Come

**Author's Note:**

  * For [accioslash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/accioslash/gifts).



> Title of this fic is taken from the quote, "Something good will come of all things yet," by Jack Kerouac. – So much love for teas_me for the beta job – Seriously, bb, can't thank you enough for this! All remaining mistakes are my own. – Written for accioslash, who purchased one of my fandomaid offers a couple months back. What can I say, really? I flailed when you claimed my offer, I flailed when I saw your prompt, and I flailed as I wrote. Now, hopefully, you shall flail as you read! ♥

' _394 Spinner's End_ ,' Harry recited to himself again as he turned his car down the appropriate road. The motor gave one of its rumbles of protest, and the needle of the speedometer tipped back a few lines before it seemed to recall itself and the car stuttered forward properly again. ' _Damn thing's inching closer to the scrap heap._ ' Shaking his head, he turned his gaze towards the houses as he slowly crept the car up along the block, leaning forward over the wheel and ducking his head slightly to get a clearer view of the numbers.

"387... '89..." He looked across to the opposite side of the street and frowned as he slowed the car to a stop and leaned back in his seat. "394..."

The street came to an end at the house, fading out into open country behind the tall, narrow building. Much like the remainder of the homes on the street, it had a look of disrepair about it, although the lack of boarded-up windows was an improvement from the neighbouring house. Frowning to himself, Harry reached for his briefcase in the passenger seat and withdrew his papers to ensure that he hadn't, in fact, somehow gotten the address turned around. Once he'd confirmed that he had read it correctly, he tucked the case file back into his briefcase and hesitated another moment before opening his car door and sliding out of the seat.

He quickly pulled his jacket tighter around himself as the bitter November wind blew straight through the fabric and bit at his skin. After a moment of fumbling with his keys, he locked up the car and tucked the ring back into his pocket as he jogged his way across the road and up the walk to the front door of the house. Shifting his briefcase over to tuck it beneath one arm, Harry raised the other and rapped his knuckles sharply against the door, bringing his hand closer to his mouth to breathe a puff of warm air on his skin while he waited, and he was just about to reach out and knock again when the door swung inward.

A lean, wiry man, at least twenty years his senior, was framed in the doorway, standing a few inches taller than himself, and Harry had to tip his head back slightly to meet his eyes. The man's face, framed with lank, black hair, was much like the rest of his build; long and thin, pale skin stretched over sharp cheekbones, and a nose that was just a little too large and slightly crooked, as though it might have been broken once or twice in his younger years. His dark eyes were narrowed as he looked at Harry, his lips were pulled into a thin line, and Harry could see the frown lines at the corners that suggested it was a common expression.

"Do you intend to stare at me all afternoon, or is there something I may help you with?" the man asked, his tone laced with obvious annoyance, and Harry blinked once behind his glasses before clearing his throat and nodding.

"Mr Snape, I presume?" The man inclined his head in the smallest nod, and Harry dropped his attention to his briefcase as he opened it, keeping it carefully tucked against himself in an effort not to drop anything. "My name's Harry Potter, I'm here to- _damn!_ " The cold in his fingers made them fumble, and his grip on the leather case slipped as he slid his case folder from inside. Another short curse fell from his lips as he made an unsuccessful grab for the briefcase before it landed hard on the narrow top step and several papers slid out.

Snape hummed as he crouched down to gather up his papers. "I see they sent the very best, didn't they?" he mocked, his tone dripping with condescension, and Harry lifted his gaze long enough to shoot him a glare as he hastily tucked his papers back into his briefcase. Pursing his lips, he straightened, adjusting his grip to tuck the briefcase beneath one arm while holding the case file in his hand.

A gust of bitter-cold wind blew past, rustling the pages in the file, and Harry's expression of annoyance faltered as he pressed his arms in closer to his sides, trying to curl in on himself for warmth. "Could I perhaps come inside?" Snape hesitated, the line of his lips thinning again.

"I would much rather if you didn't, actually," he said at length, and Harry let out a quiet sigh.

"Mr Snape, I'm here to help, and I can't-"

" _No_ ," Snape interrupted, startling Harry. He hadn't raised his voice at all, although he didn't really need to – the sharp tone of his voice alone was enough to make Harry fall silent as Snape seemed to draw himself up, using every inch of his height to his advantage to loom over him. "You are here because that idiot of a physician does not think it possible that I might know my mother's needs better than he, and all but forced me to agree to this _consultation_. Now, seeing as I can assure you that she is well looked after and in absolutely no need to be shipped off to a care home, you may leave."

Harry hesitated long enough for Snape to take a step back and move to close the door in his face. Shaking himself, he shot an arm out and caught the door just a few inches shy of shutting and had to lean all of his weight against it to offset Snape's efforts to force it closed. "Sir, I'm not here to force her into a home. My job is just to observe – see how she lives and how the two of you are managing – and then suggest better ways to make her – and _your_ – life easier... That's all." He paused, considering the sliver of Snape's face he could still see through the crack between door and frame, and added in a softer tone, "I'm not here to take her away from you."

Easing off the door, he waited while Snape seemed to pause on the other side. After a moment, it swung inward and Snape's form was once again framed in the doorway. Snape's hands clenched at his sides, and Harry waited while the other man considered him closely, his expression unreadable although there was obvious tension in his posture. When he finally broke the silence, there was an edge of discomfort to his tone, and Snape's gaze flicked away from Harry's face, centred on a point just over his right shoulder.

"Today is not one of her better days."

He nodded slowly. "I understand this is difficult, Mr Snape. I imagine for you as well as for her." Snape didn't acknowledge his words when he paused, so he continued. "But I will better be able to help you if I can see her on the bad days as well as the good. It's the only way for me to know what assistance the two of you need the most."

Snape remained silent for a long moment, his expression still pinched, before he finally gave a nod, the gesture small and stiff. Stepping back, he held the door open and a sigh of relief left Harry's lips as he stepped inside. The warmth of the house immediately enveloped him as Snape shut the door behind him, and he paused a moment on the entry mat to just let the heat seep into his skin and ease the numbness of his fingers, looking around the small sitting room.

The walls were dark wood, tricking the eye into making the room appear smaller, and the collection of bookshelves lining the majority of wall space seemed to bring them in closer, giving the room a claustrophobic feel. An old, worn sofa took up the majority of the empty floor space, the floral pattern faded with time and the seams of the cushions starting to fray and split in places. To the left, a single leather armchair was wedged into a corner, close to the shelves, with a lamp positioned behind it, the shade dusty and bulb casting a pale, dull sort of glow on the chair. A small, rickety table between sofa and fireplace, and a threadbare rug on the floor completed the room, and although it was cramped, the room was clean and neatly kept, with enough space still to move between pieces of furniture without tripping and stumbling.

"She is in her room at the moment," Snape spoke up from just behind Harry's shoulder, and the sound of his voice startled him slightly. Shuffling over closer to the wall, he allowed Snape to move past him with just a brush of their shoulders against each other. "I am not entirely certain how much longer she will stay there, and once she comes out..." He paused, and Harry watched his profile as Snape pursed his lips again, the edge of discomfort creeping back into his expression for a brief moment before he masked it, although he avoided looking back at Harry at all. "I assume you have questions or at the very least paperwork that must be done for all of this?"

Harry watched Snape take a seat in the armchair, rankling a bit at his return to a sharp, accusatory tone, and nodded as he stepped forward himself and took a seat at one end of the sofa. Setting his briefcase on the floor, he laid his case file out on the low table in front of him and reached into the chest pocket of his jacket for an ink pen. "I'll need some more information from you about her condition, for a start." He leaned forward as he spoke to begin filling in a few pieces on the first page of the file, scratching in the date and checking his watch for the time.

"Did her physician not tell you what was relevant himself?" Snape asked, and Harry paused to look at him. "He all but demanded my signature on the bloody release to contact your offices so that he _could_ , I find it difficult to believe he might have left out even the smallest detail." His words took on a bitter, sneering edge, and Harry took a breath, counting down from five in his head to hold on to his patience.

Difficult families were one thing – when questions of less-than-ideal care were raised, the caregivers would often prove belligerent and difficult during the course of their investigations, and they were all trained how best to handle them. However, when it was simply a request for assistance overall, it was beyond rare that family members fought the process, in his experience. And why would they, when their cooperation only made the process of getting help that much faster for them.

Unless there was something that Snape was attempting to hide...

"Mr Snape-"

He fell silent at the sound of a loud and heavy _thump_ of something above, mingled with the sound of something crashing to the floor, and in an instant, Snape was up out of his chair. It took Harry a moment longer to push himself up to follow him to the narrow staircase, and Snape's long legs had already carried him to the top landing before Harry even began ascending the steps. Despite being in his mid-forties, Snape moved with more speed than he'd have expected, and Harry could make out the muffled tone of his voice as he made it to the top stair, just as a woman let out a wail.

"Not him, Tobias, please!"

Harry had moved to sprint down the hall towards the sound of her voice, but stopped short as Snape strode out into the hall, and a frail looking woman followed just a step behind, reaching out to grab at his arm. She was at least a foot shorter than him, her frame seeming to curl in on itself slightly, and while Snape was lean, this woman was a sickly sort of thin. Her silver hair was pulled back into a club at the nape of her neck, and although it had the look of someone taking time to carefully brush it back into the style, several sections of hair had begun to break loose, with a frizz of flyaways at the sides.

"It's not his fault," she pleaded as she shuffled after Snape, and Harry could see her tightening her hand on his arm as he tried to reach for the handle of a door. "Leave him be, I beg of you. Tobias-"

Snape turned, then, and Harry shrunk back against the wall quickly, trying to meld himself into the shadows somewhat as the man seemed to have entirely forgotten his presence there. His expression was no longer stern or as unreadable as it had been downstairs while dealing with Harry, but now open, a mix of pain and what Harry could only describe as desperation etched into his features. The woman flinched but did not step back as he raised his hands, although Harry could see that Snape only gently settled his hands on her shoulders, and the corners of his lips pulled down into a frown as he watched.

" _Mum_... It's me. _Severus_. Not father..." Snape paused for a moment, smoothing his hands over the woman's shoulders before he spoke again in a low whisper. "Tobias has been gone for a very long time, now, Mum."

She was still for a moment, and then wrenched herself back, one frail hand scrambling for the sweater she wore draped around her shoulders, pulling it closer in around herself as her face twisted with a wretched expression. " _Liar!_ Our Severus is just a little thing, still."

"Mother-"

" _Stop it!_ " she shrieked, and Harry winced at the pitch of her voice. Despite it, Snape reached a hand for her and she immediately recoiled, shrinking herself against the wall. "Stop it, Tobias, please. Why..." A strangled sound like a sob left her throat as she crumbled to the floor and looked up at Snape. "Why would you say those things to me, my love?" Her voice was weak and trembled now as she spoke, and there was a long hesitation during which Snape neither moved, nor spoke.

Finally, he crouched down and reached a hand out, his expression pained as he looked at her, but there was a determination there, in the set of his jaw, as he patiently waited for her to place her hand in his. "Why don't we put you back into bed, now," he suggested as he helped her back up to her feet. "Once you are settled, I will get the broom and clean up the mess."

Although she wavered on her feet, the woman made an attempt to step back, eyeing Snape warily for a moment, as though trying to sort out whether to listen to him or not before she gave a small nod. Snape spared no time placing a hand between her shoulder blades and guiding her back into the room Harry had watched them step out of, and Harry pushed away from his place against the wall to quietly move closer, catching a glimpse of a knocked over table and a shattered lamp on the floor beside the bed as Snape helped the woman pull the duvets up around herself.

He carefully kept his distance, watching Snape as he moved into the hall, his footsteps halting when their eyes met. Snape swallowed, his expression shifting quickly through a range of emotions – anger, shame, distrust, and then determination – before it settled once more into an unreadable mask as he moved towards the door he had been attempting to open when the woman had grabbed his arm. Harry glimpsed a sparse bedroom in the few seconds that Snape held the door open to retrieve a broom from just inside. There was only a bed, small bedside table, and wardrobe in the room, as far as he could see, without any photographs or decorations of any sort.

"Is that Eileen?" Harry asked at last, as Snape tried to step past him towards the other bedroom, and he watched him give a stiff nod once his back was to him. "Is... is she like that often?" He did his best to make the question gentle, but still Snape's back straightened and his posture filled with tension as he paused just outside the doorway of the bedroom.

"I told you, this is not one of her better days."

Before he could think it through, the question left Harry's lips. "Are you certain you wouldn't prefer to send her to a home?"

The silence that stretched between them was deafening, and then Snape took a step forward into Eileen's room and continued to keep his back to Harry as he spoke, his voice taking on a harsh edge even while it remained quiet.

" _Get out_."

* * *

' _Not your smartest moment, Potter._ '

Harry heaved a sigh as he made his way down the narrow staircase, shaking his head to himself. He hadn't meant to say it, especially knowing how sensitive Snape seemed to be about the subject of sending his mother away, but the words had just sort of slipped out. Reaching up, he raked a hand through his hair, giving a tug at the dark strands out of frustration. If he left, there was absolutely no chance of him getting his foot back in the door, that much was obvious. Snape would turn every other worker away, assuming the department even chose to send anyone else.

They didn't _have_ to interfere. There were no suggestions of mistreatment, and while the place probably wasn't ideal, Snape kept the home safe for Eileen. It was obvious they were struggling, at the very least, financially, but they were also getting by, and if Snape refused to accept the help they could get him, then there was nothing Harry, or anyone else could really do to force his hand. Frowning to himself, Harry stopped at the bottom of the stairs and took a slow look around at the claustrophobic sitting room to his left, and what he could see of the tiny, cramped little kitchen at the back of the house to his right.

He could leave, as Snape had asked, or he could stay – try to get Snape to talk to him long enough to convince him not to toss him out on his ear. After only a few seconds, Harry took his decision and moved into the sitting room, dropping himself down at one end of the sofa and looking around himself at the shelves of books. When he heard Snape's footsteps on the stairs, he took a breath and braced himself, looking up as Snape's steps halted and meeting his eyes.

"I believe I told you to leave."

Snape turned his back to him and strode past Harry and the sofa without a second glance, moving towards the back of the house. Standing to follow, Harry leaned one shoulder against the door frame of the cramped little kitchen Snape had entered and watched as the other man began to busy his hands with the kettle. "I wasn't certain you meant the room, or the house," he said. The words were enough to make Snape glance back at him once with a glare before he returned his attention to setting the kettle.

"Tobias was her husband, wasn't he?" Harry asked at length. For an instant, Snape's shoulders slumped and the man looked every single minute of his age, and then some, before he seemed to draw himself up – straightening his spine and rolling his shoulders back, as though _looking_ strong and under control might suddenly make him so. Behind him, Harry let out a quiet sigh. Pushing away from the door frame, he stepped closer to Snape, moving to lean against the edge of the sink less than a foot away from him. "Your father?"

"Brilliant deduction, Mr Potter. Did you manage it all by yourself, or did you consult your paperwork while you were loitering in my sitting room?" Snape's voice was tight and laced with condescension, and Harry turned his head to view his profile. His jaw was firmly set and his gaze was focussed in a glare at the kettle as he placed it on the range, and Harry looked away, then, his lips pursing slightly.

"Does she confuse you for him often?"

Snape made a quiet noise of frustration, and in his periphery, Harry could see the muscles in his hand shifting as he clenched them. "As I told you before, it is not one of her better days."

Harry hummed.

A small window above the sink looked out at the open lot behind the house, and he gazed out it as he spoke, his eyes flicking over the barren earth. It wasn't necessarily his business – although he could argue that it would help him understand Eileen better – and it was beyond out of line that he ask, but still Harry spoke up, his tone conversational as he kept his gaze away from Snape. "I take it he wasn't a pleasant man, then? From the way your mother was behaving-"

" _Potter._ "

Ignoring the harsh edge of warning in Snape's voice, Harry hedged forward. "I'd almost say he was _violent_. To one of you, at least, or maybe bo-"

Harry fell silent with a wince when Snape banged his fist hard on the edge of the range, rattling the kettle and leaving Harry's ears ringing for a moment with the clatter of it. When he dared a glance at him from the corner of his eye, Snape was staring at his hands where he gripped the range, his already pale knuckles whitened further and the muscles in his jaw flexing. Letting silence stretch between them, Harry waited, continuing to watch Snape in his periphery for several moments until his fingers flexed on the edge of the range. When at last he spoke, Snape's voice lacked its previous sharpness, the words falling soft and rough on Harry's ears.

"She protected me. As best and as often as she could." He swallowed, lifting his gaze from his hands in favour of staring almost unseeingly at the wall in front of him, and Harry held his silence to allow him to continue in his own time. Rather than explain further, however, Snape took a breath and eased his hands off the edge of the range. "She deserves far better than to be abandoned in a home she does not know, away from her only family."

Nodding slowly, Harry allowed silence to settle in the room once again, surprised to find himself at a loss for words. Somehow, everything that came to mind seemed to fall flat, and although it had been vague, he recognised the significance of Snape's revelation – telling him what he was doing was honourable would be as insulting to him as suggesting again that he send Eileen away. After a brief moment, Snape began to move beside him, busying his hands with pulling things down from the cupboards for tea, and Harry stepped aside when he moved closer to reach for a mug from the cabinet above the sink. Snape paused with his fingers lingering on the handle of a mug, his brow furrowing slightly as Harry watched his profile.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked at last, taking down a mug and leaving the cabinet open as he waited for Harry's reply. "I imagine going over the necessary papers will take time, after all..."

Dumbfounded, Harry nodded again, blinking rapidly a few times before he managed to shake himself. "Yeah... _Yes._ Tea would be lovely... Thank you."

* * *

"Mr Potter," Snape greeted when he opened the door on Harry's second visit. "I hope you are prepared for an interesting afternoon." Stepping to the side, Snape held the door open for him, and Harry arched an eyebrow with a quirk of a smile tugging at his lips as he stepped inside. Unlike during his previous visit, Snape appeared to be in good spirits, which definitely boded well, but his greeting felt strangely ominous, and Harry took a quick glance around the place.

"Dare I ask why it'll be interesting?" he asked, and just as Snape opened his mouth to reply, Eileen's voice rang out, calling Snape's name. Turning his attention towards the stairs, Harry watched the woman descending them with a hint of fascination. Still thin and frail-looking in build, Eileen did not carry herself at all like she had the previous week when he had first seen her. Instead, she carried herself tall, with her back straight and chin up, although her hand did cling a bit tightly to the railing as she descended the steps.

"Severus, who is this?" she asked with a faint note of sharpness in her voice, almost commanding, and in that instant, Harry could see the strong resemblance between mother and son. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek for a moment to keep from smiling at that thought, and flicked his gaze to Snape, who had drawn himself up as Eileen had come down the stairs. To his surprise, Snape bent forward slightly at the waist in a bow, before he spoke.

"Lady Prince, my apologies. This is Mr Potter-" Snape hesitated briefly, and Harry caught him looking at him sideways before he quickly finished, "-the new secretary."

His brow knit in confusion, Harry turned his face towards Snape and opened his mouth to speak before Snape shot him a look, half of warning and half pleading, and despite his confusion, Harry looked to Eileen and pulled his mouth into a pleasant smile. "A pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he said as he bent forward to mimic Snape's bow. He lifted his head just enough to be able to still see Eileen, and watched a slow smile spread across her face as she moved away from the stairs.

"A pleasure indeed, Mr Potter, welcome. Severus, darling, would you show Mr Potter around, then? I believe there is time enough before lunch for you to settle him." Eileen spoke in a pleasant tone, now, the commanding note of it from before gone now as she stepped into the sitting room proper and perched herself delicately at one end of the sofa. "Although you might bring me my reading, before you do."

Inclining his head in a graceful nod, Snape gave another half-bow. "Of course, madam." Remaining just inside the doorway, Harry stood back and watched as Snape moved and plucked a book from one of the shelves that lined the walls of the sitting room, offering it to Eileen , who accepted it with a smile and a nod. "Will that be all, my lady?" he asked, and even from where he stood, Harry could see the way her eyes were alight with a smile as she shook her head.

"Yes, Severus. That will be all, thank you." She made a shooing gesture, and Snape straightened, stepping around the coffee table and gesturing for Harry to follow him towards the stairs.

"This way, then, Mr Potter," he said, and Harry quickly fell into step behind him with a nod.

He remained silent as they moved up the stairs together, following Snape up to the second floor and into the room on the right-hand side. Taking a glance around, Harry found himself standing in the small, sparse bedroom he had glimpsed on his first visit to the home; with no decorations on the wall or even the desk tucked away in one corner. A bookshelf he hadn't seen the first time was wedged between one side of the bed and the wall, while the small wardrobe took up space beside the desk on the opposite wall, leaving the rest of the room open, and Harry moved towards the desk to perch himself on the edge of it.

"Lady Prince?" Harry asked at length, waiting until Snape had pushed the door partly closed to speak, watching curiously as Snape immediately moved to the bookshelf. Snape hummed and stayed silent for a moment as Harry watched him running his fingers along the spines of books, stroking them all tenderly as though each were familiar to him, and Harry realized suddenly that this must be his bedroom, before he shook himself. "Forgive me, sir, but I don't understand."

"I assume that your file did not contain much of my mother's history beyond the necessary medical information?" Snape glanced over his shoulder at him, and Harry shook his head. He knew the file nearly from memory, now, after all the time he'd spent looking it over prior to his first visit to the home, and since then. Nodding, Snape turned his face away again as he continued.

"Despite the appearance of this place, she actually came from wealth – the Prince family might not have been in the upper echelons of high society, but they were certainly still well known. And well enough off that she would have been taken care of for her entire life, even if she had never married, just from the allowance her family offered her, and then her inheritance later on. She'd have never wanted for anything, really.

"My father, on the other hand, came from rather the opposite end of the financial spectrum. His family was quite lucky to find themselves breaking even at any given point, and the thought of expendable income was merely a dream, for them. Still, from what I hear of him, he was not a bad man, at least as far as my mother could tell, when she had first met him. Decent enough that she fell in love with him, despite all of her family's protests.

"They went as far as protesting her plans for marriage with threats of disinheritance. In the end, she still chose Tobias, and, true to their word, her family disowned her and cut all ties, taking away her allowance and removing her from the will. The transition from wealth to poverty hit her rather hard, I imagine. Although she has never complained of it as far as I can remember, I do recall seeing her more than once, when I was younger, watching the more well-to-do women in town with a sort of envy. I believe a part of her has always missed the life she sacrificed to be with my father.

"Somehow, he always blamed her for it," Snape continued after a short pause. At last, he turned to face his body towards Harry, but his face remained turned away, gaze fixed out the window, now, while he spoke, and Harry glimpsed a far off look in his eyes as though he were recalling distant memories.

"My mother had told me once when I was younger that I was a Prince. For a little while, I had thought she meant royalty, until I made the mistake of saying it in front of my father. He was quite quick to... set me straight about who I was." Snape's lips pulled into a thin line for a moment, and Harry found himself struck by the strangest urge to reach out and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. He resisted, though, and waited out Snape's few moments of silence, watching the tense flexing of his jaw before Snape cleared his throat softly and seemed to force himself to relax once more.

"I overheard him with my mother later on that evening. I cannot remember any of the exact words any longer, but I do remember understanding that my father somehow held my mother responsible for our struggles. Even when I was young, I had known we were not at all well off, I simply did not understand just how strained things were, just yet. But my father, I suppose, had expected marrying my mother to mean he would have finally pulled himself out of the gutters, and instead, he found himself deeper in them than ever before, when she had quickly become pregnant with me."

"Does it bother you?" Harry asked softly after another relapse into silence. Snape's gaze shifted to him, then, and it was all Harry could do not to quail under the intensity of it. Instead, he drew himself up a little straighter, stepping away from his perch on the edge of the desk to move closer to the other man. Snape's eyes remained fixed on him with every step, until he stopped with only a foot or so between them, and turned his own face away to look out the window. "When she confuses you with him?"

In his periphery, Harry watched Snape watching him, before his face turned away as well, and he wondered if they fixed their gazes on the same point on the empty, dusty road outside.

"It is not one of the better moments, not by any means." Snape paused and let out a sigh that seemed weary beyond his years. He lifted a hand and presseed his palm against the windowpane, and instinctively, Harry's gaze shifted to it, taking in the pale skin and long fingers, and the detail of every ridge and line in his flesh.

"I bear a striking resemblance to him, in many ways. I was lucky enough to inherit quite a few of my features from my mother, but my eyes, my hair... even my nose, those were his, although the latter stands apart now, after one too many breaks as a child." There was a faint note of anger to Snape's tone, then, and after just another second, his hand slipped from the glass as he straightened. "Given her condition, it is only understandable that she might confuse the two of us by appearances."

Snape turned and without questioning it, Harry mimicked the movement, until the two of them stood facing one another.

"But I would prefer to believe that I am _nothing_ like him, otherwise."

The way that Snape looked at him in that moment gave Harry pause, and he hesitated, taking the time to look at the other man closely. At the anxious sort of tension in his posture, and the brief flicker of a look that crossed his face, as though some part of him was seeking confirmation from Harry. Any sort of approval or reassurance.

"No," Harry murmured at length. He held Snape's eyes as he shook his head and reached out to lay a hand against his arm, offering a light squeeze and a small smile before his hand fell back to his side. "I'd say you're nothing like him, from the sound of things."

* * *

Harry paused on the pavement outside Snape's home as he watched the other man step out the door with a small pack tucked under one arm, dressed in a long, dark coat against the chill in the February air. There was a tension in his posture, as he quickly turned to lock up the house, that Harry hadn't seen in weeks, ever since his first visit to the home in early November, and he pursed his lips as he watched the other man fumbling a little with his key, realizing after a few seconds that his hands were shaking.

"Mr Potter," Snape said with his back still turned to Harry, a soft sigh that sounded almost relieved breaking up his sentence as the key slid loudly into the lock at last. "I apologise for the lack of notice, but now is actually not a very good time."

His voice was stilted and tight, laced with the same tension that held his shoulders stiff and his back tall and straight. When he turned, Harry saw the dark smudges beneath his eyes, and his own frown deepened. The lines of Snape's face were more pronounced, and the man looked every bit of his age, and then some; stressed, weary, and tired. As he started to step down from the door, Harry took a step closer to him, rather than moving back.

"Is everything all right?"

"No," Snape answered tersely. He avoided Harry's gaze as he made to step around him, and determinedly, Harry kept himself in Snape's way, managing to cut him off a second time when he tried to step around on the other side, which pulled a growl of frustration from Snape's throat.

"What's happened, then?" He watched the muscles in Snape's jaw twitch, and then his hands flexed at his sides, and when he turned his face away, Harry's expression fell. "Is Eileen all right?" he asked softly.

Snape's shoulders sagged at that, and a nearly inaudible sigh fell from his lips. He lifted his head, but kept his gaze turned to the street, rather than Harry's face. Still, Harry could see the strain in Snape's features.

"I was forced to take her to hospital the night before last. She is still there, at the moment – I only came home to retrieve a few of her things. Attempting to prepare for whatever _moods_ she might find herself in when she experiences a rare moment of lucidity between doses of her medications." When the tension began seeping right back in to Snape's tone, Harry took another step forward and laid his hand on his arm, firmly guiding him to turn around as he gestured to his car.

"Let me drive you back." When Snape began to shake his head, Harry insisted. "You don't drive, and you obviously didn't take a cab back; or at least you didn't have one wait on you. Which means you're either planning to _walk_ all that way, or take a shuttle or the tunnel. Either way, this is faster." Pausing, Harry let his hands fall away from Snape and shifted himself to stand in front of him, surprised to find Snape meeting his eyes when he looked up. "Please?"

For several long seconds, there was silence while Snape looked at him, searching his face for something. When he seemed satisfied at last, he nodded, somewhat stiffly. "Very well," he said, and as Harry led the way back towards his car in front of the house, his shoes scuffed once against the pavement in surprise when a second, softer murmur, almost inaudible, followed.

" _Thank you._ "

Harry waited until Snape had settled into the passenger seat before twisting his key and listening to the motor sputter and protest before a low rumble emitted from it and the car shuddered to life. Shifting the car into gear, he pulled out into the street and made a careful turn-around to turn them down the road towards the city proper. Beside him, Snape sat ramrod straight as the row of houses on Spinner's End faded behind them for the main road, with his pack resting in his lap and the strap wound tight around his hands. His gaze was fixed straight ahead out the wind shield of the car with a stony expression. As he pulled up to a red light, Harry turned to look at him properly for the first time, and even then, the other man's attention didn't shift. With a sigh, Harry broke the tense silence that had settled between them.

"What happened?"

Snape's brow furrowed slightly, and the silence stretched for several seconds longer before he gave a small shake of his head. "I don't know," he answered. His voice was quiet and laced with confusion, and Harry watched him tightening his grip on the pack's strap as though trying to steel himself against his uncertainty. "I found her on the floor the other morning. She was completely unresponsive to me... There has been some speculation of a heart attack, but the doctors have yet to confirm anything."

Lightly biting his lower lip, Harry started to reach over to comfort Snape, until he spoke again with his gaze still firmly fixed ahead.

"The light is green."

Harry paused with his hand hovering between them, and cleared his throat softly as he returned it to the wheel. "Right... The A&E entrance, or front?"

"Front, please," Snape murmured quietly, and Harry gave a small nod as he turned down the next street towards the hospital. Silence settled between them again while Harry pulled into the lot and found a parking space; shifting into park and turning the key in the ignition, he settled against the back of his seat with a quiet sigh and glanced at the man beside him. Snape's gaze had lowered to his lap at some point, and the muscles in his jaw were working again as he stared at his hands wrapped in the strap of his pack.

"Would you care to accompany me inside?" he asked at length, and Harry started slightly.

He wasn't certain just what it was he had been expecting, but it hadn't been that. Still, he recovered himself and nodded before Snape could mistake his hesitation for reluctance, and began tucking his keys into his trouser pocket with one hand while the other moved to undo the seatbelt. "Of course."

Snape only nodded, seemingly more to himself than to Harry, and unfastened his own seatbelt to climb out of the car. He waited just a few steps away from it with his gaze fixed on the front of the hospital, and the moment Harry's own car door swung shut, he began striding up towards it. Falling into step behind him, Harry tucked his hands into the pockets of his wool coat and watched the man in front of him, the tension in his posture and swift pace making the tail of his coat billow around his legs as he walked.

Again, he was struck by the desire to reach out for him and offer what comfort he could, and stopped himself by clenching his hands within his pockets, shaking his head at himself. Snape was hardly the sort to welcome comfort, from what Harry had come to understand of him, and seemed to take even the smallest display of emotion as a sign of weakness within himself. Offering him sympathy or understanding in words or with a touch was not what the man desired, and was likely to earn him a fairly good tongue-lashing if he were to try. But his company? _That_ , Snape seemed more than willing to accept, and Harry's steps faltered for a brief moment as the realisation struck him, before he urged himself forward once more to catch up with the other man as he pressed the button for the lift.

* * *

"How is she?" Harry asked when he arrived on Snape's doorstep less than a week later. Eileen was nowhere to be seen on the lower floor as he followed the other man into the sitting room, taking a seat at one end of the sofa while Snape moved into the kitchen to procure a second teacup. When he stepped back into the room, Harry looked at him expectantly, and Snape let out a quiet sigh as he took a seat himself and poured them both a cuppa.

"She suffered a heart attack, Mr Potter, how do you _imagine_ she is?" Snape's lips pursed for a moment and Harry ignored his snapping as he continued to give him the same expectant look.

"She is deteriorating rather rapidly, from the look of things," he said at last, without meeting Harry's eyes. With both cups full, he paused, setting the kettle down before he passed over one of the cups, and Harry gratefully curled his hands around the ceramic, allowing the heat of the tea to seep through into his hands while he listened.

"Her memory loss has progressed further, and she struggles more often now to say what she wants. It is not constant, just yet, but it is more common than it had been." Pausing, Snape pursed his lips, and Harry sipped his tea in silence while he waited for him to continue, noting the edge of emotion that tinged the man's voice when he spoke once more. "I've found her simply sitting in her bed, staring off while she mindlessly shreds at the pages of a magazine on more than one occasion over the past few days. I'm beginning to feel as though I am truly losing her, now..."

Harry nodded slowly, swallowing the lump that rose in his throat as he leaned forward to gently place his cup down on the low table in front of them. "What of her moods? Does she still..." He waved one hand, uncertain just how to articulate it, and one corner of Snape's mouth twitched with something akin to amusement, although it came nowhere near reaching his eyes.

"Have delusions?" He nodded and lowered his gaze to the cup in his own hands. "She does, although they are farther between, now. Yesterday, for example, she might as well have been comatose, for all that she interacted with me, while today, it seems I am _graced_ with the presence of Lady Prince once more." There was a note of fondness to the last, and Harry's eyes softened as he watched Snape continue to stare at his tea.

The man was bearing a remarkable burden, one that the vast majority of people in Harry's experience were quick to push off onto others; homes and nurses, anyone but themselves. Some for a lack of caring, while others did so to distance themselves from the experience as much as possible, unable to cope with it themselves and often still struggling while watching from the outside. Snape, however, had taken up the task alone, without the aid of family, a partner, or, from what Harry had been able to gather during his visits, even a friend of his own or his mother's who might at the very least offer a brief reprieve with their company. As far as Snape had ever let on, Harry was the first and only one to ever help in any capacity, and still the man refused to bow under the tremendous pressure of his task and leave his mother into anyone else's care, despite the obvious toll of the stress on himself.

Without thinking, Harry reached over and laid a hand on Snape's where it was curled around his mug, meeting his eyes when Snape's attention snapped to him with a startled expression. At a loss for words, Harry simply allowed the touch to linger, offering only a brief squeeze of Snape's hand, as though it might communicate everything for him. To his surprise, the other man nodded, slowly, and he allowed his hand to slip away to take up his tea once more.

The quiet that had settled over the room stretched on while they both sipped slowly at their tea, neither looking at the other or rushing to break the companionable silence. When the clock above the fireplace chimed a new hour some time later, however, the spell over them broke and both men moved to set their tea down. Snape was the first to stand, clearing his throat softly.

"I ought to check on her, before supper."

Harry nodded, toying with his cup for one final moment before he, too, stood. "I suppose I'll see you both next week, then?" Snape nodded in return, continuing not to meet his eyes, and Harry's cheeks flushed faintly at the sudden awkwardness of the moment. Clearing his own throat, he gave a second nod, more a stiff jerk of his head than anything, and looked away from Snape. "Right. I can see myself out while you look in on her," he said, and bent to pick up his briefcase while the other man moved towards the stairs.

Hesitating as he listened to Snape's footsteps ascending towards the upper floor, Harry's fingers moved away from his case to pick up his teacup, frowning at it for a moment before bringing it to his lips to drain it dry as he wondered at what had happened. _Something_ had shifted during their time sitting on the sofa, somewhere between his touching Snape's hand and the chime of the clock, though exactly what it was, he couldn't say. But it seemed that both of them could sense it, if Snape's reaction was anything to go by, and Harry sighed softly as he emptied his cup with one last swallow.

He stalled himself long enough to take the cup into the kitchen and deposit it in the sink before he shrugged his coat on and gathered up his briefcase. His gaze flicked towards the staircase once, while he paused near the door, straining his ears to listen. Snape's footsteps were muffled overhead, nowhere near the top landing of the stairs. Nowhere near rushing down to stop and ask if he might stay a little longer. Sighing softly, Harry shook his head at his own foolishness and pulled open the door, ducking his head against the burst of cold air as he stepped out onto the front steps.

* * *

Harry started awake as a loud ringing assaulted his ears, only to squeeze his eyes shut and roll over onto his side, away from the sound. "Piss off," he grumbled into the pillow, just before the sound lulled for a moment and he had just enough time to burrow down beneath the duvets before the second ring. Groaning, he fumbled for his second pillow and dragged it across the bed to hug it over his head, attempting to block out the noise. When the third ring still broke through the feathery barrier, though, he gave up and flopped himself onto his back, reaching out and snatching up his phone from the beside table.

" _Fuck_ ," he hissed as he snapped it open and the display lit up brightly right in front of his eyes. He blinked quickly through the pain of it and just barely made out the time – half-three in the morning – before he saw the name flashing upon the screen and pressed the green button just as the final ring was cutting off. "Hello?"

His voice was rough with sleep, still, and a little sharper than he'd intended in the rush to answer before the call was lost, and he heard silence on the other end. Uncertain whether the other man had already moved to hang up, or if he was only hesitating, Harry cleared his throat softly and tried again, his voice more steady now. "Mr Snape?"

There was another hesitation, and a sound that might have been someone sniffing on the other end of the line, before Snape answered him. "Yes... Yes, I-" His strained voice broke off, and Harry heard the same sniffing sound a second time. "I'm sorry..."

Furrowing his brow, he pushed himself up in the bed and reached up to grind the heel of his palm against his eyes to help wake himself further. "Is everything all right?" he asked, and Snape's choked sound in answer was enough to pull Harry fully from his sleep-addled state as he shuffled back to lean against the headboard. Lowering his voice to a murmur, he prompted softly, "What's happened?"

He could almost _hear_ Snape gritting his teeth, and waited him out while he composed himself. Still, when he spoke, his voice was tight and strained, choked with emotion.

"She's _gone_." Snape paused and took a ragged breath on the other end of the line, before the loud _bang_ of his fist hitting the table sounded, followed by what Harry could only assume was a strangled sob. "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Hush..."

Harry was out of bed before he'd realized he was even moving, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder while he pulled his trousers from the day before off the floor and began tugging them on. "Don't start on the, 'I shouldn't have called' thing, all right? Just... _I'm sorry_ ," he said into the phone, and heard his own voice wavering before he swallowed. "You're at home, yeah?"

"Y-yes?" Confusion laced Snape's voice, and had it been any other time, any other reason for him to have called, Harry might have smiled at the endearing quality of it.

"All right." Harry breathed out a sigh and nodded to himself, juggling the phone for a moment while he tugged a jumper on over his head and then padded out of the bedroom. "Just sit tight, okay? I'm going to come 'round for a while-"

"There's no need to-"

"I know that," he said, raising his voice just enough to speak over Snape's protest, although his tone remained gentle. Snape fell silent again, and Harry continued softly, "I know I don't have to. But I'd like to. Brew a pot of tea to keep yourself busy, if you need, and just sit tight, and I'll be around as quick as I can get there."

Snape's swallow was audible, and Harry tugged on his shoes over bare feet while he listened to the silence on the line, before the other man spoke again, his voice rough and wavering slightly, but more controlled, now. "I'll leave the door open..."

"Thank you."

The words had hardly left his mouth before he heard the _click_ of the phone being hung up, and he sighed as he pulled his cell away from his ear and snapped it shut. Reaching up with one hand, he raked his fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at the dark strands before pushing himself to his feet once more. It wasn't part of his job to help, any longer, he knew that much, and was fairly certain from his protests that Snape knew it as well. But then, it hadn't been part of his job to drive the man to the hospital, either, or to sit with him that day after visitor's hours had ended and Snape had been shuffled out of Eileen's room. He'd been a bit of a mess, then, and was far worse off now, Harry _couldn't_ leave him to deal with his loss alone.

Grabbing up his keys from the coffee table, he pulled his coat on and locked up his flat quickly, taking the stairs two at a time as he bounded down to the entry floor and out into the lot where his car was parked.

* * *

Eileen's funeral was a smaller affair than Harry had really expected, despite having helped Snape make the arrangements. He'd expected there to be _someone_ from her family there, a sister, a niece, or a nephew; anyone who might look past her being disowned and come to say goodbye. Perhaps even a member of her husband's family who might have remembered her. Instead, when he stepped into the church, he found the place nearly deserted, with the exception of himself and Snape, who sat alone with his head buried in his hands.

Uncertain whether he ought to disturb him yet or not, Harry moved first to the front of the church, towards the platform where Eileen was laid. The more intimate details of the planning, such as her attire, Harry had left entirely to the other man's care, thinking it only right. And as a result, the woman had looked every bit the Lady she had been, dressed in a fine silk gown, with her thin hair carefully styled around her head. Harry glimpsed a set of pearl earrings through the grey curls, as he stood to pay his respects, before the two rings on her hands drew his attention and he paused. Her right hand supported a gold band, polished to a brilliant shine and set with an alternating pattern of emeralds and diamonds, adding to her glamour all the more.

On the left, she wore two, much more simple rings, mismatched and questionable in quality. The more narrow of the two was silver, tarnished in places as though it was only plated, with a stone cut like diamond, but lacking all the shine. And nestled against it was a wider band of gold, duller than the other and looking just a bit too big around her finger. The way her hands clasped below her breast made the three rings sit against each other, the finer tucking itself between the other two.

"Her wedding set..." Snape's voice murmured from just behind his shoulder, and Harry turned to look at him. The man's face was drawn, jaw set tight and the bags beneath his eyes more visible than ever as he looked down at his mother. He gestured to her hands to pull Harry's attention back to them, without ever meeting his eyes, and Harry took the cue and turned away from him again.

"My father spent everything he'd had at the time to buy them for her. For a woman accustomed to genuine diamonds and gold, she was always dreadfully fond of them..."

Harry nodded slowly, asking when it seemed silence might settle again, "Who gave her the other one?"

There was a pause before Snape answered, his voice soft. "Her mother, when she was just a girl. It was one of the few pieces of jewellery, along with her pearls, that she never sold after her marriage. I never did learn how she managed to hide them from my father, but when she gave up everything else to help support our family, she could not bring herself to part with these." His voice choked on the last, and Harry turned in time to see Snape turning away to put his back to him, raising his hand to press his fist against his mouth for a moment.

"It seemed fitting she should get to wear them once more."

Swallowing thickly, Harry nodded again and after a moment of watching Snape's profile – the way he squeezed his eyes closed just a second before his shoulders began to tremble – he moved, stepping closer to him and reaching up to lay his hand against his forearm. He could feel the other man's muscles tense beneath his palm and slid his hand upward, over his arm to his shoulder, where he settled it, squeezing firmly in a show of sympathy while he shifted himself closer to Snape, standing a step behind and just to the side of him.

"You... you did not have to come," Snape managed after a long moment, when the trembling of his shoulders had begun to ease, though his voice was still strangled.

"I know," Harry murmured in reply. He paused, uncertain what more he could say, and settled for squeezing Snape's shoulder again, maintaining the pressure for a long moment before he eased off and continued to let his hand rest there. "But I wanted to... For you. And for her."

The silence that followed stretched on long enough for Harry to begin thinking Snape wouldn't speak again at all. Still, he could not bring himself to move away, and after several long moments had passed, the other man moved at last, reaching one hand up to lay over Harry's on his shoulder. His grasp was warm and firm, holding Harry's hand in place even as Harry felt him trembling lightly again, clinging to him almost like a lifeline as he bowed his head. He watched Snape's throat work with a thick swallow, and then his voice, low and full of emotion, rang in his ears.

" _Thank you_ , Mr Potter..."

" _Harry_ ," he corrected softly. "You can call me, Harry, Severus." He felt Severus's hand flex, squeezing his own hand tighter for a brief moment. Severus didn't speak in answer, but he nodded, just a small movement of his head, and Harry took it for acknowledgement.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the parson moving towards the raised platform that they stood on with the casket, and Harry gently laid his free hand on Severus' arm, guiding him forward towards the arrangement of empty seats in front of them. "Come on, now, let's have a seat together..."

- _The End_ -


End file.
